


Why Bother?

by orphan_account



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz is ranting, Depression, Gen, I don't know why I wrote this, I'm Sorry, M/M, Poor Baz being depressed, this is not good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 08:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19331143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 'Maybe I should just stop. Just end it all. What's the point in carrying on If there's nothing to carry on for?'The title basically explains it. Baz is depressed. Well, he wont actually admit it to anyone. He wouldn't dare.It's basically Baz taking about depression for a while.Also trigger warnings because its about depression and implied suicidal thoughts.





	Why Bother?

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know why I wrote this. Impulse I guess? I don't really know. It's not very good because I am horrible at writing about emotions and this is entirely a work based on emotions so... I guess in order to get better I have to start somewhere?
> 
> Anyway, if you read it don't expect it to be good because I warned you!

 

Why bother?

I’m barely able to get myself out of bed in the mornings. Often, I miss first period because I don’t have the willpower to get up. I don’t see a point in doing the same thing over and over. I feel numb, constantly. I’m numb to emotions. I’m numb to life. I wake up in the morning just to go to bed again at night. I need more and more sleep. I’m exhausted. Constantly. Of people; of thoughts; everything.

I don’t know why I even bother.

Sometimes I feel like I've lost something. The only problem is, I don’t know what. Then, I realise that I’ve simply lost myself. I’m just not _me_ anymore. I don’t throw snarky comments at Snow every time he does something wrong. I don’t speak at meals. After class, I head straight for the catacombs, to be alone. It’s just not right.

I feel like I’m drowning. Drowning in my own self pity. I watch as everyone else is breathing, and I’m choking; dying and no one notices. I feel utterly helpless; dull and unable to move. I am trapped as I am forced to watch the people around me being happy and free. Free from their own misery.

I get angry at everyone else’s obliviousness to my feelings, despite the fact that I’ve never talked to someone about it all. How no one notices what I’m going through. Not a single person. And, even if they did realise and try to help, they wouldn’t be able to.

They wouldn’t be able to even remotely understand what it’s like. And, besides, I would push them away anyway. After all, that’s what I'm best at: hurting people. I used to do it everyday of my life, for Merlin’s sake, before I got too exhausted to bother.

The main reason that I’m always exhausted, other than the fact that I don’t have any willpower not to be, is that I don’t actually sleep much. I never really slept well, even before all this. But, It’s even worse now. Every night, I lie awake thinking about everything. About me, and how selfish and pathetic I am. About the point in trying anymore. About anything and everything. It’s exhausting.

The only thing more exhausting than feeling like this is trying to hide it. In the early days, when I just thought I was being a miserable twat (although I still think of myself as that) I tried to hide it. Instead, I would just change the misery into anger. I would constantly lash out at anyone I could; Simon, my friends, everyone really. That’s probably why no one likes me anymore. For Merlin’s sake, even my own cousin despises me.

It’s all my fault.

I try to justify myself. I say that it’s ‘not my choice to be miserable’ or it’s ‘just the way I am now, so people should learn to accept that.’ But, really, it _is_ my choice. I could choose to get off my lazy arse and go to first period. I could choose to make a conscious effort to be happier, and nicer to the people around me. But, no. I just have to go and fuck things up with the only two people in my life who care for me (or used to.)

That’s what I do. Fuck things up. I fucked things up with my father when I blurted out that I was gay, and then got into a massive argument that resulted him in practically disowning me (His exact words were, “If you want to be gay, then be gay. But by doing that, you lose this family, this home, this life.”) I fucked things up with my friends when I started ignoring them and never putting in any effort to interact or socialise with them.

So, really, the only thing I'm good at now is messing up. I don't even have any hobbies anymore. I stopped playing my violin when the depressing music that I liked to play sounded too happy. I stopped going to football practice when I could barely be bothered to get out of bed in the mornings.

If it was my choice, I would stay in bed all day and starve. I couldn’t care less. I even almost _want_ that. I want for it to all be over. But, no. At some point every day, I have to get up. Not because I'm putting in any effort to get an education, like my mother would’ve wanted. Not because I'm trying to act like I'm normal and fine, because I'm not. Instead because I can’t bear to be around Simon for so long.

He started missing first period around the same time I did, because he suspected I was instead using the time to ‘plot his demise.’ He just sits on his bed and stares at me as I lie there, thinking about everything. Like what’s happening now. If only he knew. He'd probably laugh.

Maybe I should just stop. Just end it all. What's the point in carrying on If there's nothing to carry on for?

What exactly is waiting for me in life. After all, the one thing in life that I want is already taken. There is no chance I will ever have it. Have him. Because he's taken by Wellbelove. And, even if he was single, why would the Chosen One, my mortal enemy, want to be with me? What is the chance that he would love me. It's nonexistent, that's what it is. Because who would love me, a vampire, a failure? Not me. That's for sure.


End file.
